A year ago we were waiting for a name. A face. A shepherd. As so many times in the history of the Church, the world looked to the chimney of the Sistine Chapel for a sign. We did too. And although there was a small hope in our hearts, it seemed more like a pious dream than a real possibility: that a son of Saint Augustine would ascend to the Chair of Peter.
A dream that seemed impossible
I remember that moment perfectly. I was celebrating the Eucharist when I received a message from a friend: “The Pope is Prevost—you were right.” I felt time stop for a few seconds. And I began to cry. I cried with joy, gratitude, and amazement. An Augustinian was Pope. One of our brothers, formed in the spirituality of Saint Augustine, now called to confirm the whole Church in the faith.
Many will remember that the world was celebrating that day the memorial of Our Lady of Luján. And surely there will be no shortage of Argentines who, with good reason and affection, think that the Mother of the Argentine people interceded so that the successor of the first Argentine Pope would be elected that day. But I, from my Augustinian heart, cannot help but see another providential coincidence: for the Augustinian family it was the feast of Our Lady of Grace.
And perhaps therein lies one of the most beautiful keys to this pontificate.
Our Lady of Grace and the Augustinian heart
The title Our Lady of Grace is born from the angel’s greeting in Nazareth: “Rejoice, full of grace, the Lord is with you” (Lk 1:28). Mary appears as the woman favored by God, chosen to receive salvation and offer it to the world. For Christians, this title underscores precisely that: the primacy of grace. Everything begins in God. Everything springs from his loving initiative. Mary is full of grace because she was first looked upon by God with love.
It is no coincidence that the Order of Saint Augustine has found in this title such a profound expression of its spirituality. From the earliest centuries of the Order, Our Lady of Grace has accompanied Augustinian life. As early as the General Chapter of Orvieto in 1284, the prayer Blessed are you, dedicated to the Virgin of Grace, appears.
Later, confraternities and convents would arise under this title in places such as Valencia and Lisbon, according to documented testimonies dating from 1401. From the 16th century onward, the devotion spread intensely throughout Italy and Latin America, until in 1806 Pope Pius VII officially granted the Order of Saint Augustine the liturgical celebration of Our Lady of Grace.
Grace. What a profoundly Augustinian word.
Saint Augustine understood that the Christian life is not a human achievement but a humble response to God’s love. Everything is grace. Conversion is grace. Vocation is grace. Perseverance is grace. Even the tears that well up in certain holy moments are also grace.
“Perhaps it was no coincidence that an Augustinian Pope was elected on the day of Our Lady of Grace. Perhaps, quite simply, it was grace.”
A pontificate marked by communion
For this reason, I believe that many Augustinians experienced the election of Leo XIV not as an institutional triumph or a gesture of prestige for the Order, but as an undeserved gift. A grace. The grace of seeing how the charism of Saint Augustine—interiority, communion, the search for truth, fraternal life, love for the Church—could offer something needed today to the world and to the universal Church.
And perhaps that is precisely the great mission of this pontificate: to remind a fragmented humanity that no one is saved alone; that truth is not imposed but sought together; that the human heart remains restless until it rests in God; that the Church must be a home of communion and not a trench of division.
In a time marked by polarization, speed, and noise, Augustinian spirituality has much to say. Pope Leo XIV seems to have understood this from the first day: more than strategists, the Church needs brothers; more than perfect structures, it needs living communities; more than grandiloquent speeches, it needs evangelical authenticity.
The grace of having Pope Leo
A year has passed since that white smoke. And I still think the same thing I felt that day through tears: what a great grace it is to have an Augustinian Pope. What an immense grace it is to have Pope Leo under the maternal gaze of Our Lady of Grace.
Because, in the end, perhaps everything can be summed up like this: it was no coincidence. It was providence. It was grace.
